Here's the details for my dad's memorial service. In case you wanted to send flowers, this is the place.
MEMORIAL SERVICE
for Jason T. Liu
Saturday, Aug. 25, 2007
11:00 a.m.
Woodside/Santa Cruz Room
@ the Lifemark Center (new administration building)
Skylawn Memorial Park
Highway 92 at Skyline Boulevard
P.O. Box 5070
San Mateo, CA 94402
650-349-4411 (24-hour service)
DIRECTIONS:
(From San Francisco) Take 101 South to 92 West (towards Half Moon Bay). You will pass Highway 280 and the road will begin going up a hill. You will see a turnoff a few miles ahead at the top of the hill for Skylawn Memorial Park. Turn off and follow the signs to the Lifemark Center (new main administration building). Park in the parking lot next to the Lifemark Center.
(From San Jose) Take 101 North to 92 West (towards Half Moon Bay). You will pass Highway 280 and the road will begin going up a hill. You will see a turnoff a few miles ahead at the top of the hill for Skylawn Memorial Park. Turn off and follow the signs to the Lifemark Center (new main administration building). Park in the parking lot next to the Lifemark Center.
WHEN YOU GET THERE:
Please proceed to the Woodside/Portola room inside the Lifemark Center. If you can't find it, tell the receptionist that you are here for Jason Liu's funeral. She will take you to the right chapel.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Skylawn Memorial Park
I think my brother has been really busy making arrangements and so he might have forgotten about the blog. I'm worried that we haven't been able to reach everyone, although I believe word has spread rather quickly about when the service will be.
We are planning to have the San Francisco ceremony for Dad on Saturday, August 25th, 2007 at Skylawn Memorial Park. I believe the ceremony will take place sometime during the hours of 11:00am - 1:00pm. My father will be placed in Bai Ling Yuan VI.
http://www.lifemarkgroup.com/san_mateo/index.html
When I get further details I will post them as soon as possible.
-Laura
We are planning to have the San Francisco ceremony for Dad on Saturday, August 25th, 2007 at Skylawn Memorial Park. I believe the ceremony will take place sometime during the hours of 11:00am - 1:00pm. My father will be placed in Bai Ling Yuan VI.
http://www.lifemarkgroup.com/san_mateo/index.html
When I get further details I will post them as soon as possible.
-Laura
Monday, May 21, 2007
Funeral Arrangements Set
We've finalized the details for my dad's funeral. It took a while because of we had to consult a fortune teller to see if it was a good day for the family, plus check on availability for the funeral home. Some of the dates were not available.
Here are the details:
Friday, May 25, 2007
11:30 a.m. Service
Huai En Ting (Hall)
Second Taipei City Mortuary
#330 Xing Hai Lu, Section 3
Taipei, Taiwan
Our plan is to have a funeral service in Taipei and have his remains cremated. In June, we plan on bringing my father's ashes to the San Francisco Bay Area where we hope to hold an additional service for him before burial. My dad had wished to be buried near his mother at Skylawn Cemetery.
I had thought about bringing him to Shanghai prior to San Francisco, as it was his new home and he has many friends there. I know he had wanted to return to Shanghai as well. However the logistics of doing this may be difficult. Just preparing the paperwork for bringing him back to the U.S. is an ordeal. I never realized how much distrust the American government has, even for its own citizens - as we have to prove that we are his relatives, prepare documents in English, prepare customs documents, etc.
Thanks everyone for your thoughts, prayers and phone calls. Your support has helped the family and my mom, especially, through these difficult times.
Here are the details:
Friday, May 25, 2007
11:30 a.m. Service
Huai En Ting (Hall)
Second Taipei City Mortuary
#330 Xing Hai Lu, Section 3
Taipei, Taiwan
Our plan is to have a funeral service in Taipei and have his remains cremated. In June, we plan on bringing my father's ashes to the San Francisco Bay Area where we hope to hold an additional service for him before burial. My dad had wished to be buried near his mother at Skylawn Cemetery.
I had thought about bringing him to Shanghai prior to San Francisco, as it was his new home and he has many friends there. I know he had wanted to return to Shanghai as well. However the logistics of doing this may be difficult. Just preparing the paperwork for bringing him back to the U.S. is an ordeal. I never realized how much distrust the American government has, even for its own citizens - as we have to prove that we are his relatives, prepare documents in English, prepare customs documents, etc.
Thanks everyone for your thoughts, prayers and phone calls. Your support has helped the family and my mom, especially, through these difficult times.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Fang Xin
Last night, the hospital staff ran an X-ray to see if my dad had pneumonia. My dad's breathing has gotten heavier and it sounded like there was some congestion in his chest.
My aunts had a hard time because they were leaving. This would be their last time seeing my dad. They tried really hard not to cry in front of him.
My second aunt from San Jose helped me meet with several funeral services today. My Chinese isn't good enough to do it alone and my mom was in no shape at all. So my aunt and I took up the responsibility. We had heard that if we didn't plan, the funeral service companies would jack up the prices because they know that you're in a vulnerable position.
My aunt was fierce - always asking questions, inquiring about the need for this and that, verifying if what one representative's claim was true or not. In the end, we agreed that this company Eilin, was the best. The representative, Mr. Zhang, didn't seem shady and was very respectful of our situation.
This took nearly 3 hours to meet with 3 representatives. Meanwhile, my mom, sister, girlfriend and first aunt were in keeping my dad company. He was too weak to talk, and would respond with nods or the occasional, "Ugh."
My uncle - my mom's brother - and my aunt arrived in the afternoon as well to see my dad for the last time. My dad was very grateful of my uncle for helping get my dad into Tai Da Hospital and getting an appointment with a reputable liver doctor.
After my relatives left, my dad's condition seemed to stabilize. The nurses had earlier administered 2 bags of blood plasma and one I.V. bag of human albumin, which I believe was for the lung infection. He was now peeing and he would respond to what we were saying.
Once, he became frustrated and pulled off his oxygen mask. Then he started mumbling something not discernable. He became even more frustrated when we kept asking him to repeat what he said. We all tried to comfort him and calmed him down. That was difficult to go through.
At around 10 p.m., we were all exhausted. My girlfriend and my mom fell asleep on the couch. I fell asleep around 11 sitting in a chair; I was trying to write this blog, but it ended up being the letter, "k," repeating for several pages. My sister had the first shift to watch dad and monitor his condition.
At 12:40 a.m., I woke up to the nurse talking to my sister. She was explaining that my dad had lost his blood pressure and he would soon pass. I hurried over beside him. I brushed his forehead and looked him in the eyes. His heart was still beating and he was still breathing.
Earlier, my uncle and my second aunt both told me, "You need to tell your dad not to worry about your mom, that you and your sister will take care of her." Or, "Tell your dad that he'll be in a safe place."
My sister and I both told him those things, but he already knew we would.
Earlier in the day, I asked my dad if he thought about my grandmother. He nodded. I asked if he thought about my grandfather. He shook his head.
A few months ago, my dad recalled when grandma was nearing the end of her life. He had just arrived from Shanghai and I was taking him to see her. In the car, I told him he should thank her for sacrificing everything and bringing the family to Taiwan.
At first, he was reluctant, saying that she knew. But the minute he walked up to her, he broke into tears and thanked her. She hugged him and patted him on the back. My dad said that he will never forget that moment and he thanked me for telling him to say that.
Sitting there next to him, my sister said, "Fang xin, Pa. Wuo men hui kan hao Mommy."
"Fang xin," I added. "Ni ke-yi kan Nai-Nai. Ni ke-yi gen ta yiqi." (You can see grandma. You can be with her.)
No more than a second later, his breathing ceased.
We kissed him on the forehead. The doctor came in and pronounced my father's death at Thursday, May 17, 1:01 a.m.
My aunts had a hard time because they were leaving. This would be their last time seeing my dad. They tried really hard not to cry in front of him.
My second aunt from San Jose helped me meet with several funeral services today. My Chinese isn't good enough to do it alone and my mom was in no shape at all. So my aunt and I took up the responsibility. We had heard that if we didn't plan, the funeral service companies would jack up the prices because they know that you're in a vulnerable position.
My aunt was fierce - always asking questions, inquiring about the need for this and that, verifying if what one representative's claim was true or not. In the end, we agreed that this company Eilin, was the best. The representative, Mr. Zhang, didn't seem shady and was very respectful of our situation.
This took nearly 3 hours to meet with 3 representatives. Meanwhile, my mom, sister, girlfriend and first aunt were in keeping my dad company. He was too weak to talk, and would respond with nods or the occasional, "Ugh."
My uncle - my mom's brother - and my aunt arrived in the afternoon as well to see my dad for the last time. My dad was very grateful of my uncle for helping get my dad into Tai Da Hospital and getting an appointment with a reputable liver doctor.
After my relatives left, my dad's condition seemed to stabilize. The nurses had earlier administered 2 bags of blood plasma and one I.V. bag of human albumin, which I believe was for the lung infection. He was now peeing and he would respond to what we were saying.
Once, he became frustrated and pulled off his oxygen mask. Then he started mumbling something not discernable. He became even more frustrated when we kept asking him to repeat what he said. We all tried to comfort him and calmed him down. That was difficult to go through.
At around 10 p.m., we were all exhausted. My girlfriend and my mom fell asleep on the couch. I fell asleep around 11 sitting in a chair; I was trying to write this blog, but it ended up being the letter, "k," repeating for several pages. My sister had the first shift to watch dad and monitor his condition.
At 12:40 a.m., I woke up to the nurse talking to my sister. She was explaining that my dad had lost his blood pressure and he would soon pass. I hurried over beside him. I brushed his forehead and looked him in the eyes. His heart was still beating and he was still breathing.
Earlier, my uncle and my second aunt both told me, "You need to tell your dad not to worry about your mom, that you and your sister will take care of her." Or, "Tell your dad that he'll be in a safe place."
My sister and I both told him those things, but he already knew we would.
Earlier in the day, I asked my dad if he thought about my grandmother. He nodded. I asked if he thought about my grandfather. He shook his head.
A few months ago, my dad recalled when grandma was nearing the end of her life. He had just arrived from Shanghai and I was taking him to see her. In the car, I told him he should thank her for sacrificing everything and bringing the family to Taiwan.
At first, he was reluctant, saying that she knew. But the minute he walked up to her, he broke into tears and thanked her. She hugged him and patted him on the back. My dad said that he will never forget that moment and he thanked me for telling him to say that.
Sitting there next to him, my sister said, "Fang xin, Pa. Wuo men hui kan hao Mommy."
"Fang xin," I added. "Ni ke-yi kan Nai-Nai. Ni ke-yi gen ta yiqi." (You can see grandma. You can be with her.)
No more than a second later, his breathing ceased.
We kissed him on the forehead. The doctor came in and pronounced my father's death at Thursday, May 17, 1:01 a.m.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
It's A Roller Coaster
Jeff here.
It's been kind of scary these past few days. This has been a roller coaster ride for me and my family, as my father's condition has worsened.
On Friday, the day I arrived, the doctor of internal medicine on the floor motioned me and my mother outside. He said that he didn't have much time left, maybe 3 months. Because of the poor condition of his liver, his kidneys were being impacted. The level of ammonia in his blood is rising and as a result, he's tired and seems sleepy.
The doctor asked if there was anywhere he wanted to go. We told them Shanghai, but we all knew that it wouldn't be possible in his condition. There wasn't anywhere in Taiwan that he wanted to go to, that's for sure.
After speaking to the doctor, I went back into the room and my dad asked me if it was bad news. I tried not to lie. I told him, "No, but you have to really fight hard now."
He looked at me long and hard with these eyes that said, I'm tired. I don't have any more fight left.
At this point, the tears started welling up in my eyes. I hugged my dad. He started crying too, saying, "Wei shen-me Liu jia nan-de you zhege ming?"
Roughly translated, "Why do the men of the Liu family have such fates?"
He was referring to his younger brother who passed away from a preventable illness in his late teens/early twenties and his older brother who passed away from liver cancer about five years ago.
On Monday, the doctors told my aunts that my dad had a day or two left. He would be sleeping more and more, they said. I knew that he didn't have 3 months, but we all couldn't believe that it would be so fast.
That night, I asked my dad about the songs the Communists sang when they marched into Shanghai. He once told me that as a little boy, he remembered all these people singing these simple tunes, filling the streets with song. He couldn't remember, but he looked at me and said, "Zhen-me jian dan de ge."
My aunts were too young to remember. But our attention quickly turned to the television as we looked for some variety shows so that he could sing along to. His eyes were fixed on the screen as a performer sang an old song in Chinese. My aunts were singing along too.
Then out of nowhere, my mom started laughing. She said, "Wow, do that again! Only me and (the caregiver) saw you. Let everyone see."
We all looked at my dad and were like, "What? Show us."
After a few seconds, he smiled and wiggled his shoulders as if he were dancing. We all had a good laugh.
On Tuesday morning, I went to go pick up my girlfriend from the airport. My dad kept asking to see if she was coming. I was kind of surprised that he asked that, but realized that it was probably his way of saying, "Hurry up and get married."
When we got to the hospital, the doctors had given him an oxygen mask because his blood-oxygen level had been dropping, but it didn't elevate it enough. They gave him another one capable of more pressure.
Seeing him breathing in the mask reminded me of watching my grandmother in her final days with lung cancer. My dad is uncomfortable from all the heavy laxatives, the diaper rash, the oxygen mask, the feeding tube, and not being able to eat or drink like a normal person. Seeing him go through this day and night has been truly, truly heartbreaking for all of us.
On the other hand, when we ask him if he's feeling pain anywhere, he says no. He always seems to be listening, he always wakes up when the cute nurses arrive (really!) and he manages to crack a joke every once in a while. Moments like these, like my sister mentioned, have been precious.
All we're hoping for now is that he not suffer anymore than he already has. Please wish this to be true as well.
It's been kind of scary these past few days. This has been a roller coaster ride for me and my family, as my father's condition has worsened.
On Friday, the day I arrived, the doctor of internal medicine on the floor motioned me and my mother outside. He said that he didn't have much time left, maybe 3 months. Because of the poor condition of his liver, his kidneys were being impacted. The level of ammonia in his blood is rising and as a result, he's tired and seems sleepy.
The doctor asked if there was anywhere he wanted to go. We told them Shanghai, but we all knew that it wouldn't be possible in his condition. There wasn't anywhere in Taiwan that he wanted to go to, that's for sure.
After speaking to the doctor, I went back into the room and my dad asked me if it was bad news. I tried not to lie. I told him, "No, but you have to really fight hard now."
He looked at me long and hard with these eyes that said, I'm tired. I don't have any more fight left.
At this point, the tears started welling up in my eyes. I hugged my dad. He started crying too, saying, "Wei shen-me Liu jia nan-de you zhege ming?"
Roughly translated, "Why do the men of the Liu family have such fates?"
He was referring to his younger brother who passed away from a preventable illness in his late teens/early twenties and his older brother who passed away from liver cancer about five years ago.
On Monday, the doctors told my aunts that my dad had a day or two left. He would be sleeping more and more, they said. I knew that he didn't have 3 months, but we all couldn't believe that it would be so fast.
That night, I asked my dad about the songs the Communists sang when they marched into Shanghai. He once told me that as a little boy, he remembered all these people singing these simple tunes, filling the streets with song. He couldn't remember, but he looked at me and said, "Zhen-me jian dan de ge."
My aunts were too young to remember. But our attention quickly turned to the television as we looked for some variety shows so that he could sing along to. His eyes were fixed on the screen as a performer sang an old song in Chinese. My aunts were singing along too.
Then out of nowhere, my mom started laughing. She said, "Wow, do that again! Only me and (the caregiver) saw you. Let everyone see."
We all looked at my dad and were like, "What? Show us."
After a few seconds, he smiled and wiggled his shoulders as if he were dancing. We all had a good laugh.
On Tuesday morning, I went to go pick up my girlfriend from the airport. My dad kept asking to see if she was coming. I was kind of surprised that he asked that, but realized that it was probably his way of saying, "Hurry up and get married."
When we got to the hospital, the doctors had given him an oxygen mask because his blood-oxygen level had been dropping, but it didn't elevate it enough. They gave him another one capable of more pressure.
Seeing him breathing in the mask reminded me of watching my grandmother in her final days with lung cancer. My dad is uncomfortable from all the heavy laxatives, the diaper rash, the oxygen mask, the feeding tube, and not being able to eat or drink like a normal person. Seeing him go through this day and night has been truly, truly heartbreaking for all of us.
On the other hand, when we ask him if he's feeling pain anywhere, he says no. He always seems to be listening, he always wakes up when the cute nurses arrive (really!) and he manages to crack a joke every once in a while. Moments like these, like my sister mentioned, have been precious.
All we're hoping for now is that he not suffer anymore than he already has. Please wish this to be true as well.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Mother's Day with Dad
The aunties arrived Saturday night and came to the hospital early Sunday morning. Luckily my dad has a single room because that morning there were about six of us there. My two aunts, my mom, brother, myself, and the caregiver. It was a pretty full room.
All the emotion that morning really hit me and I started breaking down in tears. I thought my dad was sleeping because he had just gone to the bathroom and was exhausted. But he heard me blow my nose, pulled me over and hugged me. He told me, "I Love You."
As much as my mom didn't want me to cry, I think it was good to have that moment with my father.
Half an hour later, my uncle (married to the aunt from Toronto) and his younger brother came to visit. All the action in the room made him feel really happy. He loves being the center of attention, and in the middle of the excitement. You couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
The doctors prescribed him a laxative to help him go poo. The night before, my brother and the caregiver had to get up 3-4 times to help clean him up after going. They had a busy night and were completely exhausted when the aunties arrived. The doctors decided to stop administering the laxative before bed so he wouldn't be up all night.
My dad's bottom is pretty raw from laying on his back all day and going to the bathroom on diapers. He hasn't had the energy the past week to go to the bathroom on his own. They've tried to use talcum powder and liquid spray bandages to try and help his bottom have time to dry and maybe develop a scab or something to protect it from each time he goes to the bathroom.
I feel that a couple of the things my dad really enjoys is being able to eat whatever he wanted, when he wanted, and being able to go poo in less than five minutes. It's something that he and I have in common. And it was something that we talked about in the house rather freely. Whether we went that day, how fast, the sound, we got into some pretty gruesome details.
Unfortunately, now when he goes poo, he has to prepare for the stinging pain of washing his raw bottom. Since he's on a laxative, he can't control when he goes, which is pretty frequent. Every time my dad went poo that day, my mom and the caregiver would clean him up and dry him off. As soon as they were finished or were about to finish, he would start going poo again.
He went about 3-4 times each round with about 3-4 rounds a day. That day, he had to endure being washed about 12 times. They try to wait until the round is over before washing him, but it didn't always work.
Some good news is that my dad's mouth is recovering. His lips have developed scabs and they're not as raw as before. We think that he might be fully healed in the next couple of days so he can eat real food.
His mouth has been really dry because he hasn't been eating or drinking. With the feeding tube, food goes straight into his stomach. But it's dry mostly because he's breathing through his mouth. We tried using giant cotton swabs so that he could suck out the water, but the swabs were so big that they would rub against the healing sores on his lips and cause his lips to bleed again.
We then tried spoon-feeding him water, but he would still choke a little from it. I took a peek at the inside of his mouth and his tongue was so dry that I thought spoon feeding wasn't helping the overall dryness he felt in his mouth.
Jeff and I came up with the idea of spraying water into his mouth. He still chokes on the water a bit, but the caregiver says it's because he doesn't have enough to swallow. We know it works because when we ask him if he wants us to spray into his mouth, he wakes up and responds with a very clear Yao! And with the spray, it gets better coverage over the inside of his mouth.
We celebrated Mother's Day a little in the hospital. Jeff bought flowers for everyone, including the aunties and me, and we bought a cake for our caregiver.
We all know that dad misses the taste of food, so someone came up with the idea that we should let him smell Jeff's Hey Song sarsparilla while spraying water into his mouth. My dad opened his eyes so wide and fast, he also tried to grab the soda out of my aunt's hands. With that we thought that giving him some soda might cheer him up.
He was so excited with the taste of something other than water, he was cherishing each taste. We asked him how the soda tasted and he replied with a very strong, "Dang ren hao" (of course it's good).
I think that as much as we all try to make him smile and laugh, our mood is really dictated by his responses. And when we end the day with a big smile from him, those of us that leave the hospital leave feeling that at least there's a chance that he'll still be happy when we come back the next day.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Laura Arrives in Taipei
My flight arrived on Friday at 10 p.m. Since my flight arrived so late, my mom picked me up and we went back to the apartment to rest. The next morning we went straight to the hospital to visit dad. Jeff was already there, having arrived at 6 a.m. the day before.
I arrived prepared not to cry. My mom kept telling me that I'm not supposed to show my dad how upset I am. I had seen a picture of him in his hospital bed so I had an idea of what to prepare for. When I got there and saw how his mouth was covered in ointment to prevent it from bleeding, I nearly broke down. He also had what looks like little red dots everywhere on his hands, arms and feet that are similar to bruises, but some are scabbed because fluid broke through his skin from the swelling he's been experiencing.
He was awake for about 1 minute after I arrived. Just long enough for a big smile and then he dozed off. Apparently, he was exhausted from Jeff's visit the day before. We kept trying to wake him up to go out into the garden, but his eyes would just roll back and he'd fall asleep again.
Jeff went home because he had spent all of yesterday and last night with dad. My mom and I pretty much sat around most of the morning. I spent most of it rubbing his belly trying to help his digestion.
Dad's days are no longer dictated by the types of food he gets to eat anymore. It's all about whether or not he can go to the bathroom, both #1 and #2...but mostly #2.
He's had high levels of ammonia in his blood, which if he doesn't go to the bathroom, is bad. Going to the bathroom basically helps get rid of all the toxins in his body. When he's not able to do either, he spends the day sleeping. So, I was determined to help him pass whatever was in his system so that he could spend the day talking to me as well.
My parents hired a caregiver who helps out a lot - from talking to him, cleaning after him, picking him up. This morning she told us that my dad has been coughing every time he eats. Since he's so delicate with the bruising and bleeding, the doctors thought it would be best to feed him through a tube. They're worried that his choking on his food might cause fluid to go into his lungs, which would cause another problem that we'd all rather avoid.
Watching someone put a tube up my dad's nose to go down into the stomach was pretty hard. Especially since he wasn't really aware of what was going on. The nurses explained it to him, but I think he was half asleep, not quite grasping what was happening.
After the tube was in place, they fed him a nutritional drink, Prosure (sorta like Ensure). Then they ground up his medication and mixed it with water and fed that to him as well.
I'm not sure whether he can eat solid foods again. At least not until his condition improves.
I arrived prepared not to cry. My mom kept telling me that I'm not supposed to show my dad how upset I am. I had seen a picture of him in his hospital bed so I had an idea of what to prepare for. When I got there and saw how his mouth was covered in ointment to prevent it from bleeding, I nearly broke down. He also had what looks like little red dots everywhere on his hands, arms and feet that are similar to bruises, but some are scabbed because fluid broke through his skin from the swelling he's been experiencing.
He was awake for about 1 minute after I arrived. Just long enough for a big smile and then he dozed off. Apparently, he was exhausted from Jeff's visit the day before. We kept trying to wake him up to go out into the garden, but his eyes would just roll back and he'd fall asleep again.
Jeff went home because he had spent all of yesterday and last night with dad. My mom and I pretty much sat around most of the morning. I spent most of it rubbing his belly trying to help his digestion.
Dad's days are no longer dictated by the types of food he gets to eat anymore. It's all about whether or not he can go to the bathroom, both #1 and #2...but mostly #2.
He's had high levels of ammonia in his blood, which if he doesn't go to the bathroom, is bad. Going to the bathroom basically helps get rid of all the toxins in his body. When he's not able to do either, he spends the day sleeping. So, I was determined to help him pass whatever was in his system so that he could spend the day talking to me as well.
My parents hired a caregiver who helps out a lot - from talking to him, cleaning after him, picking him up. This morning she told us that my dad has been coughing every time he eats. Since he's so delicate with the bruising and bleeding, the doctors thought it would be best to feed him through a tube. They're worried that his choking on his food might cause fluid to go into his lungs, which would cause another problem that we'd all rather avoid.
Watching someone put a tube up my dad's nose to go down into the stomach was pretty hard. Especially since he wasn't really aware of what was going on. The nurses explained it to him, but I think he was half asleep, not quite grasping what was happening.
After the tube was in place, they fed him a nutritional drink, Prosure (sorta like Ensure). Then they ground up his medication and mixed it with water and fed that to him as well.
I'm not sure whether he can eat solid foods again. At least not until his condition improves.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Leaving for Taipei
My dad is now hospitalized at Tai Da. After a day or so in the emergency room last month, he was admitted into the hospital, where it was more peaceful and he had better care. Our cancer doctor was checking on him now and ran some tests on him.
A few weeks ago, he seemed tired but OK. He told me they drained 1000 cc of fluid from his belly. The fluid was slightly red, indicating the presence of blood. I think the doctors were afraid that once they drained the fluid, that he would start bleeding profusely (the pressure from the fluid was preventing any heavy bleeding).
Well, that didn't happen. He felt much better and immediately wanted to eat, which was good.
Since then, my mom has had to carefully measure his intake and outtake of any fluids in his body. Late last week, my mom hired a nurse to take over some of the care needed for my dad now. He needs assistance to get up out of the bed and to the bathroom, especially in the middle of the night.
These past few weeks have been very difficult for her. Physically, it has been draining. She's been getting up and going to the hospital every day at 8 a.m. and doesn't leave until about 8 p.m. Emotionally, I think she feels isolated.
Yesterday, I spoke with her and my dad. My dad sounded OK, but his lips have been peeling and his mouth had sores, a side-effect of his medication. My mom asked me when I was coming and I told her that I booked my ticket for the 15th of May.
But tonight, my sister called me and said that my mom wanted us to go immediately. It was all very vague, partly because my mom was crying. So I called my mom and this is what she said:
"Jeff you better come right now. The doctor keeps asking when you and Laura are going to come. He says that it's best that you come now, while he's still able to recognize you."
I was shocked. I just spoke to him yesterday and he seemed fine. But my mom said that he's not eating now because of the open sores in his mouth and cracked lips. I spoke to my dad briefly, but I could hardly understand him. His voice was weak and it seemed like his lips were hardly moving.
The doctor took him off the chemotherapy drugs, so they'll see what happens. But I called my boss immediately after to let her know that I'd be leaving for Taiwan, tomorrow night.
A few weeks ago, he seemed tired but OK. He told me they drained 1000 cc of fluid from his belly. The fluid was slightly red, indicating the presence of blood. I think the doctors were afraid that once they drained the fluid, that he would start bleeding profusely (the pressure from the fluid was preventing any heavy bleeding).
Well, that didn't happen. He felt much better and immediately wanted to eat, which was good.
Since then, my mom has had to carefully measure his intake and outtake of any fluids in his body. Late last week, my mom hired a nurse to take over some of the care needed for my dad now. He needs assistance to get up out of the bed and to the bathroom, especially in the middle of the night.
These past few weeks have been very difficult for her. Physically, it has been draining. She's been getting up and going to the hospital every day at 8 a.m. and doesn't leave until about 8 p.m. Emotionally, I think she feels isolated.
Yesterday, I spoke with her and my dad. My dad sounded OK, but his lips have been peeling and his mouth had sores, a side-effect of his medication. My mom asked me when I was coming and I told her that I booked my ticket for the 15th of May.
But tonight, my sister called me and said that my mom wanted us to go immediately. It was all very vague, partly because my mom was crying. So I called my mom and this is what she said:
"Jeff you better come right now. The doctor keeps asking when you and Laura are going to come. He says that it's best that you come now, while he's still able to recognize you."
I was shocked. I just spoke to him yesterday and he seemed fine. But my mom said that he's not eating now because of the open sores in his mouth and cracked lips. I spoke to my dad briefly, but I could hardly understand him. His voice was weak and it seemed like his lips were hardly moving.
The doctor took him off the chemotherapy drugs, so they'll see what happens. But I called my boss immediately after to let her know that I'd be leaving for Taiwan, tomorrow night.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Deja Vu
Jeff here again. I called my sister when she got back from Taipei and asked her what happened these past few days. I was busy with work and didn't get a chance to call. It also took me a while to finish writing about my trip. The idea was to have my sister write while she was there, but I delayed that. When I did give her the username and password for this blog, she couldn't login for some reason. And by the time I figured that Blogger has a new and an old login page, and she had logged in the other one, she was on her way back to San Francisco.
In any case, she told me about my dad's swelling and how my mom was going to take my dad to the hospital after she dropped my sister off. But she had just talked to my mom and they ended up not going because my dad was too tired. This was Saturday here in the States.
I called my mom and she said basically the same thing as what my sister told me, that my dad was too tired. But today, she was going to take him. I talked to her again Saturday night (Sunday afternoon over there), and she told me that she still hadn't taken him.
Apparently, my dad woke up and went to the bathroom and took a shower. After showering, he was too tired and went to his bedroom to take a nap. He got up to eat lunch, but afterwards, he was again too tired to go to the hospital and went to sleep.
Frustrated, my mom told me that she couldn't sleep very well the previous night because she was constantly worried about my dad. His swelling was bad in his feet and his stomach. She said he could walk, but not that far. On top of that, he was eating less and less, and was a little constipated too.
My concern was what if the swelling got so bad that he couldn't get himself up? How would she get him out of bed?
My mom agreed. She told me that she thinks my dad doesn't want to go to the emergency room because of his first experience there. It was New Year's Day, he had just arrived from Shanghai and he had a very high fever. My mom took him immediately to the hospital emergency room. He stuck in the hallway for days, with constant noise and no privacy. On top of that, my dad's fever raised an alarm with Taiwan's Center for Disease Control. They thought that my dad went to China and came back with Avian Flu.
I asked my mom to let me talk to my dad. She woke him up and he sounded really weak, despite it being 4 p.m. in the afternoon their time. I asked him why he hasn't gone to the hospital yet. He said somewhat incomprehensibly that he had a checkup on Tuesday.
I assumed that he meant that he was willing to wait it out. So I told him: "Pa, you are in serious condition. The swelling is making you so uncomfortable, you can't eat. If you don't go to the hospital, you are just going to get worse.
"Remember when you told me you didn't want mom to suffer? Well, if you don't go to the hospital, you are making her suffer. So please go to the hospital, you will feel a lot better after they drain all the fluid. It won't take that long."
My dad only responded with an occasional "Ehhh."
I got back on the phone with my mom and we talked about getting him to the hospital. I asked her what would she do if my dad could not physically get to the hospital. I suggested calling an ambulance or calling on my cousin.
She said there was another downside of going to the hospital now - it was a holiday weekend. It was almost deja vu, because the dreaded emergency room episode also took place during the New Year's holiday, and half the hospital staff was out. This weekend, it was Tomb-Sweeping weekend, and most definitely, hospital workers would be out paying respects to the dead.
I told my mom that we're sorry we couldn't be there to help and that I hope she stays strong. She responded, "O.K.-la, bye."
The next day, I called the apartment but no one was there. Part of me was relieved that they had finally gone to the hospital. I called my dad's cell phone twice and he answered the second time. I could tell that he was in a hospital, there were voices in the background.
I asked him where he was. He said he was in the hospital emergency room. I told him I was glad he was there.
"Glad ni de pi! I am so tired, but I can't sleep because it's too noisy. I haven't slept for two days."
I asked him why he was there so long, how come they haven't taken the fluids out. He said that they tried to, but when they were taking it out of his belly, they saw a little bit of blood and so they stopped. The doctors think the blood might be coming from his liver, so they have to run some more tests.
He was pretty miserable and pissed off. But I told him, "Dad, I know that you are not happy right now and you're not comfortable, but I'm really glad that you are in the hospital."
He said, "Ehhh ... O.K., I'm tired. Bye."
In any case, she told me about my dad's swelling and how my mom was going to take my dad to the hospital after she dropped my sister off. But she had just talked to my mom and they ended up not going because my dad was too tired. This was Saturday here in the States.
I called my mom and she said basically the same thing as what my sister told me, that my dad was too tired. But today, she was going to take him. I talked to her again Saturday night (Sunday afternoon over there), and she told me that she still hadn't taken him.
Apparently, my dad woke up and went to the bathroom and took a shower. After showering, he was too tired and went to his bedroom to take a nap. He got up to eat lunch, but afterwards, he was again too tired to go to the hospital and went to sleep.
Frustrated, my mom told me that she couldn't sleep very well the previous night because she was constantly worried about my dad. His swelling was bad in his feet and his stomach. She said he could walk, but not that far. On top of that, he was eating less and less, and was a little constipated too.
My concern was what if the swelling got so bad that he couldn't get himself up? How would she get him out of bed?
My mom agreed. She told me that she thinks my dad doesn't want to go to the emergency room because of his first experience there. It was New Year's Day, he had just arrived from Shanghai and he had a very high fever. My mom took him immediately to the hospital emergency room. He stuck in the hallway for days, with constant noise and no privacy. On top of that, my dad's fever raised an alarm with Taiwan's Center for Disease Control. They thought that my dad went to China and came back with Avian Flu.
I asked my mom to let me talk to my dad. She woke him up and he sounded really weak, despite it being 4 p.m. in the afternoon their time. I asked him why he hasn't gone to the hospital yet. He said somewhat incomprehensibly that he had a checkup on Tuesday.
I assumed that he meant that he was willing to wait it out. So I told him: "Pa, you are in serious condition. The swelling is making you so uncomfortable, you can't eat. If you don't go to the hospital, you are just going to get worse.
"Remember when you told me you didn't want mom to suffer? Well, if you don't go to the hospital, you are making her suffer. So please go to the hospital, you will feel a lot better after they drain all the fluid. It won't take that long."
My dad only responded with an occasional "Ehhh."
I got back on the phone with my mom and we talked about getting him to the hospital. I asked her what would she do if my dad could not physically get to the hospital. I suggested calling an ambulance or calling on my cousin.
She said there was another downside of going to the hospital now - it was a holiday weekend. It was almost deja vu, because the dreaded emergency room episode also took place during the New Year's holiday, and half the hospital staff was out. This weekend, it was Tomb-Sweeping weekend, and most definitely, hospital workers would be out paying respects to the dead.
I told my mom that we're sorry we couldn't be there to help and that I hope she stays strong. She responded, "O.K.-la, bye."
The next day, I called the apartment but no one was there. Part of me was relieved that they had finally gone to the hospital. I called my dad's cell phone twice and he answered the second time. I could tell that he was in a hospital, there were voices in the background.
I asked him where he was. He said he was in the hospital emergency room. I told him I was glad he was there.
"Glad ni de pi! I am so tired, but I can't sleep because it's too noisy. I haven't slept for two days."
I asked him why he was there so long, how come they haven't taken the fluids out. He said that they tried to, but when they were taking it out of his belly, they saw a little bit of blood and so they stopped. The doctors think the blood might be coming from his liver, so they have to run some more tests.
He was pretty miserable and pissed off. But I told him, "Dad, I know that you are not happy right now and you're not comfortable, but I'm really glad that you are in the hospital."
He said, "Ehhh ... O.K., I'm tired. Bye."
Monday, April 9, 2007
Laura's Visit: Day Two
My dad got up at 7:30 and that's when everyone started to move around. I made breakfast (eggs and toasted bagels). Mom made coffee for the both of us.
Dad announced that he needed to have a bigger lunch and a smaller dinner. He had felt bloated from the dinner we made last night. (Penne pasta with tomato sauce and onion bagels, toasted, dipped in olive oil, and a soup that mom made.) And even though he was able to fall asleep, when he woke up, the bloated feeling was still there and kept him awake. By making lunch bigger and dinner smaller, he would be able to sleep through the night without feeling hungry or uncomfortable. We all agreed that this was a very wise decision on his part and we would make the adjustments according to his needs.
After breakfast dad fell back asleep. It's during this nap that my mom and I went out to do a little shopping. We had to buy milk. That's about all we could think of. Dad wanted to eat out for lunch, which the both of us didn't want to do, but he'd be upset if we didn't go along with this idea.
After the morning nap, we went to the accupuncturist's office and then went out for lunch. Dad had yu tou soup on his mind. The same soup Jeff and the Aunties had during their visit. Yes, the same one that could've fed ten people. I think he had such a good time with my brother and the Aunties at that meal, that he wanted to relive it with me and my mom. No such luck. Instead, we found a nice restaurant that served a medicinal chicken soup.
The restaurant wasn't bad. Everything we ordered was light and tasted pretty good. I think the most important thing was that my mom was around and she has a pretty big say on what gets ordered.
When we were done, we sat around to digest for a little while. During this time I noticed my dad staring at every dish the waitress was carrying to the next table, mouth open, eyes looking hungry. My mom made a comment about how scary he looked. Then we all laughed because we all knew that he really was hungry inside and couldn't help but feel envious of all the dishes the next table was able to eat. We packed up the soup and went home. Dinner was going to involve the leftover soup.
Dad's pretty upset about his weight-loss. He kept bringing it up and I kept trying to make light of it. I reminded him that since he was in his forties, he's been trying to lose weight. Now he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. All he could do was chuckle out of courtesy. He said ..."not like this". And he's right, because he's not only lost excess weight, but all the muscle in this arms and legs. He has little to no energy and when he does anything, it makes him completely exhausted. So he sleeps. And when he sleeps, he becomes inactive, which is probably why he's lost all the muscle in his body.
Dad's constantly comparing himself now with himself a couple of months ago. "I used to be able to walk a lot, now i can't"... but that's because he was on a medication that wasn't having much effect on his cancer. So, now the medication seems to be working, but he can't seem to stop feeling fatigued.
After dinner, I gave him a light back rub. The guy at the acupuncturist office showed me where he needed a massage to help his shoulder. After about five minutes my dad was out of breath saying that he felt like he just worked out.
Dad announced that he needed to have a bigger lunch and a smaller dinner. He had felt bloated from the dinner we made last night. (Penne pasta with tomato sauce and onion bagels, toasted, dipped in olive oil, and a soup that mom made.) And even though he was able to fall asleep, when he woke up, the bloated feeling was still there and kept him awake. By making lunch bigger and dinner smaller, he would be able to sleep through the night without feeling hungry or uncomfortable. We all agreed that this was a very wise decision on his part and we would make the adjustments according to his needs.
After breakfast dad fell back asleep. It's during this nap that my mom and I went out to do a little shopping. We had to buy milk. That's about all we could think of. Dad wanted to eat out for lunch, which the both of us didn't want to do, but he'd be upset if we didn't go along with this idea.
After the morning nap, we went to the accupuncturist's office and then went out for lunch. Dad had yu tou soup on his mind. The same soup Jeff and the Aunties had during their visit. Yes, the same one that could've fed ten people. I think he had such a good time with my brother and the Aunties at that meal, that he wanted to relive it with me and my mom. No such luck. Instead, we found a nice restaurant that served a medicinal chicken soup.
The restaurant wasn't bad. Everything we ordered was light and tasted pretty good. I think the most important thing was that my mom was around and she has a pretty big say on what gets ordered.
When we were done, we sat around to digest for a little while. During this time I noticed my dad staring at every dish the waitress was carrying to the next table, mouth open, eyes looking hungry. My mom made a comment about how scary he looked. Then we all laughed because we all knew that he really was hungry inside and couldn't help but feel envious of all the dishes the next table was able to eat. We packed up the soup and went home. Dinner was going to involve the leftover soup.
Dad's pretty upset about his weight-loss. He kept bringing it up and I kept trying to make light of it. I reminded him that since he was in his forties, he's been trying to lose weight. Now he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. All he could do was chuckle out of courtesy. He said ..."not like this". And he's right, because he's not only lost excess weight, but all the muscle in this arms and legs. He has little to no energy and when he does anything, it makes him completely exhausted. So he sleeps. And when he sleeps, he becomes inactive, which is probably why he's lost all the muscle in his body.
Dad's constantly comparing himself now with himself a couple of months ago. "I used to be able to walk a lot, now i can't"... but that's because he was on a medication that wasn't having much effect on his cancer. So, now the medication seems to be working, but he can't seem to stop feeling fatigued.
After dinner, I gave him a light back rub. The guy at the acupuncturist office showed me where he needed a massage to help his shoulder. After about five minutes my dad was out of breath saying that he felt like he just worked out.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Laura's Visit: Day One
I arrived in Taipei at 6am, Tuesday. The plan was for me to take the Express bus to Sun Yat Sen Memorial and from there mom picked me up. It was rainy and cold and I was so happy when I saw my mom. We got into a cab and went straight to the apartment.
When we arrived at the apartment, my dad was still sleeping. I had over a week to prepare myself for when I saw my dad's weightloss. I walked in and was a little shocked. I woke him and told him that he looked good. He sat up and flashed me a big smile and said "you too". I knew it was going to be a good day.
I started to unpack the forty pounds of luggage that I brought. Some more organic pasta, a toaster, an answering machine, a digital camera, two small bottles of spices, two pounds of granola cereal, four bottles of Isotonix, a bottle of organic olive oil and half a dozen bagels. My mom was impressed that I was able to pack everything into one suitcase. I told her that I had a great teacher. She laughed because she knows that she's able to pack any amount of clothing into a single suitcase and have it come out without a wrinkle.
I started to make breakfast. Liu family eggs over half a toasted bagel. Everyone was happy and we were just enjoying each other's company. Dad took his medicine and almost instantly fell asleep. He walked off to his bedroom and fell asleep as soon as his bed touched his pillow.
This was when my mom and I went out for some grocery shopping at the market down the street. As tiring as her daily schedule is, I know that there's something fun and interesting everytime she goes to the market. She told me that the clothes here are cheap and everyday there are different vendors. The other day she saw people selling pants for 100 NT. That's about 3 US Dollars. She said she figured she wouldn't get them that day. The next day, they were gone.
We get back and dad's awake and ready to go to the acupuncturist. Dad's arm still hurt and going to the acupuncturist's office gave him some relief. They also wanted to see if I could find some relief for my neck and headaches.
When we arrived at the office dad sat in a chair and they put a heat pack on him while I sat next to him with six needles in my neck and shoulders. After the time was up, I got onto the massage table and this short stalky man started to treat me with tui na. It's like a massage but the person presses a lot harder, so it's not relaxing, and it hurts a lot. Afterwards, dad got on the table and the man starts tui na on him.
It hurt him as well, but he's positive that it's been beneficial. He told me that after his first visit, he urinated a white fluid. I read online that those with cancer often experience swelling. That the lymph nodes were being blocked which release a white fluid. I thought that maybe the tui na was massaging the lymph glands and helping the release of the fluids. Of course, it only happened that one time.
When we were done with the treatment, dad was ready to go out for lunch. Mom and I objected because we had already planned the lunch and dinner. We got home and cooked lunch and when we were done, we all sat around and watched a little tv.
Dad dozed off and once he was asleep, mom and I were off shopping again. We didn't need much, but I think the time shopping is a chance for my mom to get out and moving.
We made dinner early because I was already starting to crash. I made some penne pasta with marinara sauce. I added some red chili peppers. Dad was looking forward to the chili peppers because he loves adding it to his spagetti. However, this time, it was too spicy for him and he couldn't finish his pasta. Dad was stuffed, took his medication and got ready for bed.
Dad told me that he's hungry all the time, but he can't eat much because he feels bloated. And when he feels bloated, he gets really uncomfortable and cranky. It was good news to hear that he had an apetite, but unfortunate to hear that he can't satisfy his hunger.
We all started to watch The Sixth Sense and I passed out. I woke up in the middle of the night and heard my dad moving around. I went into his room to keep him company. He was feeling bloated. I tried to hang out with him. He just told me to go back and keep my mom company.
And that was Day One.
When we arrived at the apartment, my dad was still sleeping. I had over a week to prepare myself for when I saw my dad's weightloss. I walked in and was a little shocked. I woke him and told him that he looked good. He sat up and flashed me a big smile and said "you too". I knew it was going to be a good day.
I started to unpack the forty pounds of luggage that I brought. Some more organic pasta, a toaster, an answering machine, a digital camera, two small bottles of spices, two pounds of granola cereal, four bottles of Isotonix, a bottle of organic olive oil and half a dozen bagels. My mom was impressed that I was able to pack everything into one suitcase. I told her that I had a great teacher. She laughed because she knows that she's able to pack any amount of clothing into a single suitcase and have it come out without a wrinkle.
I started to make breakfast. Liu family eggs over half a toasted bagel. Everyone was happy and we were just enjoying each other's company. Dad took his medicine and almost instantly fell asleep. He walked off to his bedroom and fell asleep as soon as his bed touched his pillow.
This was when my mom and I went out for some grocery shopping at the market down the street. As tiring as her daily schedule is, I know that there's something fun and interesting everytime she goes to the market. She told me that the clothes here are cheap and everyday there are different vendors. The other day she saw people selling pants for 100 NT. That's about 3 US Dollars. She said she figured she wouldn't get them that day. The next day, they were gone.
We get back and dad's awake and ready to go to the acupuncturist. Dad's arm still hurt and going to the acupuncturist's office gave him some relief. They also wanted to see if I could find some relief for my neck and headaches.
When we arrived at the office dad sat in a chair and they put a heat pack on him while I sat next to him with six needles in my neck and shoulders. After the time was up, I got onto the massage table and this short stalky man started to treat me with tui na. It's like a massage but the person presses a lot harder, so it's not relaxing, and it hurts a lot. Afterwards, dad got on the table and the man starts tui na on him.
It hurt him as well, but he's positive that it's been beneficial. He told me that after his first visit, he urinated a white fluid. I read online that those with cancer often experience swelling. That the lymph nodes were being blocked which release a white fluid. I thought that maybe the tui na was massaging the lymph glands and helping the release of the fluids. Of course, it only happened that one time.
When we were done with the treatment, dad was ready to go out for lunch. Mom and I objected because we had already planned the lunch and dinner. We got home and cooked lunch and when we were done, we all sat around and watched a little tv.
Dad dozed off and once he was asleep, mom and I were off shopping again. We didn't need much, but I think the time shopping is a chance for my mom to get out and moving.
We made dinner early because I was already starting to crash. I made some penne pasta with marinara sauce. I added some red chili peppers. Dad was looking forward to the chili peppers because he loves adding it to his spagetti. However, this time, it was too spicy for him and he couldn't finish his pasta. Dad was stuffed, took his medication and got ready for bed.
Dad told me that he's hungry all the time, but he can't eat much because he feels bloated. And when he feels bloated, he gets really uncomfortable and cranky. It was good news to hear that he had an apetite, but unfortunate to hear that he can't satisfy his hunger.
We all started to watch The Sixth Sense and I passed out. I woke up in the middle of the night and heard my dad moving around. I went into his room to keep him company. He was feeling bloated. I tried to hang out with him. He just told me to go back and keep my mom company.
And that was Day One.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Doctor Revisited
On Thursday, we had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon. My dad wasn't as excited about the check-up as he was about my mom coming back. He prepared by making sure he got a lot of rest, because at night he wanted us to all go out and eat.
The question of the day was where to eat dinner. He wanted Capone's, but he was worried my mom wouldn't want to eat Western food. So as a backup, we picked out Kao Chi, the Shanghainese restaurant we went to last time I was here - no, not Taipei 101 again.
After eating lunch, we started getting ready. At 3:30 p.m., we left for Tai Da. We got to the Oncology ward just in time. We hadn't waited for more than 2 minutes when the nurse called our number.
My dad began by explaining that he was doing fine, his appetite was back and physically he was feeling better. He also told the liver cancer specialist that he had kicked off all the other meds. The doctor was shocked. He was like, "Everything? Even the pain killers?"
I said, "No, not exactly. He took it on two occasions - once when he went poo 8 times a day (as I figured its side effects would counteract this) and the second time when he couldn't sleep. Both times it worked."
The doctor looked a little confused. He didn't think it would counteract the pooing, but he went back to my dad and asked him if he was feeling any pain. My dad said no.
At that point, the doctor did a physical check up on my dad's abdomen. My dad went on to explain that for the first time, he had sneezed loudly and it didn't bother him. For the past two months, he couldn't take deep breaths because his lungs would press up against the tumor and cause pain. But now, he was sneezing, yawning, even sleeping on his side, which he couldn't do before.
You should have seen the look on the doctor's face. He looked at me and I concurred. The doctor was in disbelief. He said he never seen anyone cut off that much medication at once. He also said the tumor felt smaller and that my dad's body was taking to the Capecitabine quite well.
I could tell that he was still in shock, though. He asked us, "So you don't need any more pain killers, stool softener, constipation pills, hiccup pills, appetite meds?" My dad said no, we still have a lot left.
He wrote out a prescription for a two week supply of Capecitabine and told us that he would give us the number to contact the distributor directly for future doses of the chemo drug. I guess they don't have enough to distribute or something.
I then asked my dad to explain his sleepnessness and the dreams he's been having. The doctor suggested prescribing sleeping pills. At first my dad said no, but after I suggested that he should at least have some on hand just in case, my dad agreed. The doctor prescribed some light sleeping pills so my dad shouldn't be too worried.
Outside the doctor's office, my dad asked excitedly, "Did you see the doctor's expression when I told him I wasn't taking any other medication? His eyes got so big." My dad then wanted me to count how many seconds it would take for him to take a deep breath. I counted 8 seconds. He then walked over to the weight scale and measured himself. He said he had gained 2.5 kilos from the week before, when we last came to see the doctor.
My dad said, "You see, before I could only take small breaths. I couldn't even yawn really because it would hurt."
After getting the prescriptions, I went to go pay. The bill came out to be NT$11,000, which we didn't have in cash, so I had to run downstairs to the ATM and make a withdrawal. The majority of the bill was for a 2-week supply of Capecitabine. The stuff isn't cheap, I tell ya.
Walking down the hallway of the hospital, I looked over at my dad. He looked pensive, deep in thought, not like he was 10 minutes ago.
I asked him what was wrong. He said, bursting into tears, "I'm just so happy."
I told him that the results were really positive and the fact that he got his appetite back is a huge plus. We were all really happy for him.
Then he said, "These past few months have been a complete waste of time. I should yell at the doctor for putting me on that medication."
I tried to be positive, telling him that the Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide didn't shrink the size of the tumor that much, but it didn't allow the tumor to grow either. That was important because the cancer could have spread to other parts of the body and been even more difficult to stop. The difference between that and taking nothing would have surely been death.
But inside, I understood how frustrated my dad must have been. All that suffering, all that weight loss, the pain.
We had to rush back home because my mom was on her way back from the airport. My dad choked on some grape juice and said that he had to calm down from being too excited that mom was back soon. When we got back, I picked up a card for him at the bookstore. He wrote my mom a nice little note and we placed it on the living room table.
My mom arrived loud and proud. She walked in the door and went into the bedroom to hug my dad. My dad immediately started tearing. It was too much for him.
My mom didn't really know how to respond, I think. She was just like, "Ah-yo, what's the matter? Look, I brought you the clothes you wanted! And here's some cookies!"
It was funny, like she was trying to cheer up a child.
After my mom unpacked her luggage, we all went out to eat at Capone's. When we got seated, my dad was like, "We'll order a smaller pizza this time as an appetizer and split a soup and salad. Then we can each order a pasta or steak."
Well, no one ordered a steak, and we only ordered one pasta dish. My dad's eyes were bigger than his stomach. With the pizza, soup and salad, we had enough to feed all three of us, and still have leftovers.
The next day, my dad woke up tired and his right shoulder aching. He had slept on his side, and since he had lost all of his muscle tissue, his right shoulder was in pain. The Salonpas I got him didn't work. I told him he could have taken a Tramal Retard. It's a pain killer, that's what it's for. He said he was worried about being constipated from the medicine, but took one after breakfast.
My dad spent most of the day sleeping. I packed my stuff and taught my mom on how to make the Isotonix drink (which the liver cancer specialist said would do more good than harm) and dispense his medication. I told her not to worry, as my sister was coming to visit on Tuesday.
It was a tiring 10 days. And when I got back to Los Angeles, I slept for 12 hours ... straight.
The question of the day was where to eat dinner. He wanted Capone's, but he was worried my mom wouldn't want to eat Western food. So as a backup, we picked out Kao Chi, the Shanghainese restaurant we went to last time I was here - no, not Taipei 101 again.
After eating lunch, we started getting ready. At 3:30 p.m., we left for Tai Da. We got to the Oncology ward just in time. We hadn't waited for more than 2 minutes when the nurse called our number.
My dad began by explaining that he was doing fine, his appetite was back and physically he was feeling better. He also told the liver cancer specialist that he had kicked off all the other meds. The doctor was shocked. He was like, "Everything? Even the pain killers?"
I said, "No, not exactly. He took it on two occasions - once when he went poo 8 times a day (as I figured its side effects would counteract this) and the second time when he couldn't sleep. Both times it worked."
The doctor looked a little confused. He didn't think it would counteract the pooing, but he went back to my dad and asked him if he was feeling any pain. My dad said no.
At that point, the doctor did a physical check up on my dad's abdomen. My dad went on to explain that for the first time, he had sneezed loudly and it didn't bother him. For the past two months, he couldn't take deep breaths because his lungs would press up against the tumor and cause pain. But now, he was sneezing, yawning, even sleeping on his side, which he couldn't do before.
You should have seen the look on the doctor's face. He looked at me and I concurred. The doctor was in disbelief. He said he never seen anyone cut off that much medication at once. He also said the tumor felt smaller and that my dad's body was taking to the Capecitabine quite well.
I could tell that he was still in shock, though. He asked us, "So you don't need any more pain killers, stool softener, constipation pills, hiccup pills, appetite meds?" My dad said no, we still have a lot left.
He wrote out a prescription for a two week supply of Capecitabine and told us that he would give us the number to contact the distributor directly for future doses of the chemo drug. I guess they don't have enough to distribute or something.
I then asked my dad to explain his sleepnessness and the dreams he's been having. The doctor suggested prescribing sleeping pills. At first my dad said no, but after I suggested that he should at least have some on hand just in case, my dad agreed. The doctor prescribed some light sleeping pills so my dad shouldn't be too worried.
Outside the doctor's office, my dad asked excitedly, "Did you see the doctor's expression when I told him I wasn't taking any other medication? His eyes got so big." My dad then wanted me to count how many seconds it would take for him to take a deep breath. I counted 8 seconds. He then walked over to the weight scale and measured himself. He said he had gained 2.5 kilos from the week before, when we last came to see the doctor.
My dad said, "You see, before I could only take small breaths. I couldn't even yawn really because it would hurt."
After getting the prescriptions, I went to go pay. The bill came out to be NT$11,000, which we didn't have in cash, so I had to run downstairs to the ATM and make a withdrawal. The majority of the bill was for a 2-week supply of Capecitabine. The stuff isn't cheap, I tell ya.
Walking down the hallway of the hospital, I looked over at my dad. He looked pensive, deep in thought, not like he was 10 minutes ago.
I asked him what was wrong. He said, bursting into tears, "I'm just so happy."
I told him that the results were really positive and the fact that he got his appetite back is a huge plus. We were all really happy for him.
Then he said, "These past few months have been a complete waste of time. I should yell at the doctor for putting me on that medication."
I tried to be positive, telling him that the Tegafur/Uracil and Thalidomide didn't shrink the size of the tumor that much, but it didn't allow the tumor to grow either. That was important because the cancer could have spread to other parts of the body and been even more difficult to stop. The difference between that and taking nothing would have surely been death.
But inside, I understood how frustrated my dad must have been. All that suffering, all that weight loss, the pain.
We had to rush back home because my mom was on her way back from the airport. My dad choked on some grape juice and said that he had to calm down from being too excited that mom was back soon. When we got back, I picked up a card for him at the bookstore. He wrote my mom a nice little note and we placed it on the living room table.
My mom arrived loud and proud. She walked in the door and went into the bedroom to hug my dad. My dad immediately started tearing. It was too much for him.
My mom didn't really know how to respond, I think. She was just like, "Ah-yo, what's the matter? Look, I brought you the clothes you wanted! And here's some cookies!"
It was funny, like she was trying to cheer up a child.
After my mom unpacked her luggage, we all went out to eat at Capone's. When we got seated, my dad was like, "We'll order a smaller pizza this time as an appetizer and split a soup and salad. Then we can each order a pasta or steak."
Well, no one ordered a steak, and we only ordered one pasta dish. My dad's eyes were bigger than his stomach. With the pizza, soup and salad, we had enough to feed all three of us, and still have leftovers.
The next day, my dad woke up tired and his right shoulder aching. He had slept on his side, and since he had lost all of his muscle tissue, his right shoulder was in pain. The Salonpas I got him didn't work. I told him he could have taken a Tramal Retard. It's a pain killer, that's what it's for. He said he was worried about being constipated from the medicine, but took one after breakfast.
My dad spent most of the day sleeping. I packed my stuff and taught my mom on how to make the Isotonix drink (which the liver cancer specialist said would do more good than harm) and dispense his medication. I told her not to worry, as my sister was coming to visit on Tuesday.
It was a tiring 10 days. And when I got back to Los Angeles, I slept for 12 hours ... straight.
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